


Forgo Wisdom

by Reccea



Category: American Revolution RPF, Historical RPF, Sons of Liberty (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 13:11:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3611301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reccea/pseuds/Reccea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John had lost many things to this revolution: his home, his wealth, his standing. But he’d felt his dignity had remained intact. But he had <i>begged</i>. He had <i>pleaded</i> his case and admitted his poverty. And still Sam had dismissed him without hesitation. He had left John standing alone in the stables without an ounce of pride to his name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgo Wisdom

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Smittywing for the beta and the encouragement. You always make my stories infinitely better.

John doesn’t want to watch Sam Adams ride away. He turns away as Sam tugs on his horse’s reins, but finds himself turning back around in the space of a breath, just to see if Sam even looks back. Sam doesn’t, of course, and John feels annoyed that no matter how often Sam Adams disappoints him, he cannot seem to shake the small bit of hope still lodged in his chest. John has long suspected that the friendship they had forged had been one solely of convenience for Sam. Sam had more often shown John tolerance and occasional human decency than any kind of affection. Not that it had quelled John’s own heart. He felt more for Sam than he could properly express. 

At least until now. He’d nearly poured his heart out to Sam Adams and had only a “good luck” in return. 

John had lost many things to this revolution: his home, his wealth, his standing. But he’d felt his dignity had remained intact. But he had _begged_. He had _pleaded_ his case and admitted his poverty. And still Sam had dismissed him without hesitation. He had left John standing alone in the stables without an ounce of pride to his name.

John wanted to be surprised by it, but Sam had too often scorned him for that to be the case.   
He’d killed a man to save Sam’s life and even that wasn’t enough to earn any sort of allegiance.

Alone in the stables but for a few horses, with the noise of the city only a low din, John let himself have a moment. To be angry, to be ashamed, to be frustrated, to be brokenhearted. It was a hard thing to love so ardently and unrequitedly and John grew tired of the burden of it, of how little joy it gave him. John was used to secrecy and circumspection, but his limits were fast approaching. Perhaps Sam’s abandonment, in the end, was a positive thing. For at least with some distance between them John might be able to convince his heart of what his head already knew. Sam might never even grow to like him, let alone love him. 

After a moment, John composed himself, preparing for a return to Congress and his duties there. Sam might think it unimportant, but John certainly did not. And it was then that Sam’s cousin ran in.

John personally had thought to find Sam at the inn where they three roomed, or perhaps at Franklin’s, or the tavern. But he had checked the tavern first and then, in dread, decided to try the stables. He’d guess that Mr. Adams had looked at least as far as the inn before coming to the same conclusion.

“Where is he?” Adams asked.

“He left. For Boston, I assume,” John replied. He leaned against one of the stalls, scrubbing his face with a hand, burning with unvoiced frustration.

Adams was not so circumspect. He cursed loudly, throwing his hat on the ground. “He’s going to get himself killed, just like Warren. And what will that get us? Another martyr? We already -have too damn many of those.”

John thought of Joseph Warren, who’d been kinder than many of the men John had worked with these past months. Who’d been brave, and smart, and truly a good man. Ill-advised and senseless as Sam’s actions were, John could admit that the loss of Warren made them understandable. 

Adams sighed and then bent down to pick his hat up. He dusted it off and turned to John. “Well, I’m staying. I’m not going to give up.” He smiled at John like an encouragement.

John nodded easily, already trying to recapture the fervor that possessed him when pleading to Sam. The desperation of it was beginning to settle, and the passion he’d had diluted by the lingering bereftness. But he had his convictions, his unshakable belief that this was the right course. That was more than enough to make him straighten his spine, and smile back at Adams. “To Franklin then?”

“Yes,” Adams replied, gesturing for John to take the lead. “Let’s catch him before he finds other entertainment.”

*

Franklin seemed equally as downtrodden by Sam’s desertion as John felt and he insisted on drink and privacy, neither of which John or Adams objected to. They retreated to Franklin’s residence and, buoyed by wine and too few options, they began to debate.

They were three rounds and several arguments in when Sam returned. 

John went still with surprise, feeling himself flush with pleasure. He couldn't imagine what had swayed Sam’s mind (for his argument had had little effect) and Sam’s return was nothing short of astounding. 

Whatever the impetus, Sam was a different man from the one who had spent weeks brooding at the Massachusetts table. He had a fire in him, an easy smile and determined confidence that thrilled John (and seemed to thrill Adams and Franklin as well). For this version of Sam could be the lynchpin they so desperately needed. 

Sam’s plan had no finesse, and little charm to recommend it. But he was grinning with excitement when he sat down next to John and outlined his ideas to the three of them. His cousin would try to win men with reason, Franklin with wit and charm, John’s task was to win them with the sympathy of a fellow man of wealth, and when those approaches failed to compel, Sam would strike with the cold, hard truth of a man who had been under England’s heel for too long.

“They must understand that it’s not only their livelihoods, but their lives at stake,” Sam said.

“Indeed,” Franklin agreed, passing Sam a glass of wine. “England will come for all of us and if we do not unite against them, then we will all hang before them.”

“They think their wealth can absolve them of anything,” John offered. “A bribe might go a long way, but not so long as they think it will.”

“And you’re proof of that,” Sam said with an easy laugh, squeezing John’s shoulder lightly. Since the incident with the British troops and Revere, Sam had become as easy with his affections to John as he’d been with his friends. It was nothing untoward, nothing even remarkable and John knew better than to assume it meant much more than a civil accord between them. But the stark difference of that affection from the cold regard he’d given before did not fail to make John flush with pleasure. It was a response he loathed and thought he’d learned to control many years ago. But Sam was altogether different from the other men John had formed a regard for and his control and well cultivated nonchalance seemed to crumble in the face of that.

Adams and Franklin slowly hashed out a colony by colony approach that Sam approved, debating it until the sun was hours gone and the candles were barely tall enough to still burn. And even then it was only when John found himself nodding off, and slumping against Sam’s side, that Adams declared them finished for the evening.

John, embarrassed and chagrined by the liberties he’d taken to Sam’s person, was happy to follow Adams out the door and into the night. Sam fell into step beside John, using John as barrier between himself and his cousin, if his sneaking of looks were any indication.

It was a fair walk back to their place of residence, but despite the late hour the streets were still lively. Sam and his cousin argued on the walk back about Sam’s near abandonment, which Sam took lightly and his cousin did not. But the argument had little malice to it and when they reached the inn they all roomed at, Mr. Adams bid John goodnight and then surprised Sam with a fierce hug. 

Sam returned the hug a little awkwardly, hands flailing, and when Mr. Adams pulled back, Sam’s face was flushed with obvious embarrassment. 

“I’m glad you changed your mind,” Mr. Adams said.

Sam shrugged, looking acutely uncomfortable. He nodded towards John and said, “John made a compelling argument.”

John felt his face go cold and then hot at that, pleasure warring with embarrassment. Sam _had listened _, and eventually had been won over.__

__Mr. Adams raised his eyebrows at John and smiled. “Well then, thank you Mr. Hancock.”_ _

__John felt ill-footed and ashamedly giddy. He nodded silently in response, unsure of what to say, and how not to give himself away._ _

__Mr. Adams clapped John hard on the shoulder before bidding them goodnight once more and making his way up the stairs._ _

__“Another round?” Sam turned to ask, settling a hand on John’s shoulder._ _

__John wanted to say yes, just for the sake of spending more time in Sam’s company, but his lack of pocket money and his residual inebriation from wine at Franklin’s made it a chancy proposition. He wasn’t drunk by any means but he might be just relaxed enough to be too forward, to take Sam’s compliments too close to heart. Providence knew he wanted nothing more in this moment than to see if he could win Sam over to more than a strategy against Congress._ _

__“I think perhaps it is time for me to retire,” John said, not needing to feign his regret. “We have a great deal to do come morning and I am a little worse for the wear, I feel.”_ _

__Sam’s smile fell but he nodded easily enough. “Yeah, of course.” He made an expansive gesture. “After you.”_ _

__John smiled apologetically and took the stairs up to the third landing. His room was the fourth door, Sam’s the third. But when John passed Sam’s room to get to his own, Sam didn’t stop._ _

__John turned, confused, to find Sam standing far closer than he expected. Sam had a small grimace on his face and his arms were crossed over his chest in a way John felt was a touch defensive. John opened his mouth to inquire when Sam sighed and said quietly, “You make a good argument.”_ _

__“Desperation suits me better than I suspected,” John agreed with a wry laugh._ _

__Sam frowned at that and shook his head. He dug into his coat and pulled out a small piece of silver. The coin John had given him. “Meant to give this back earlier.”_ _

__John had carried that coin for months. Let it burn a hole in his pocket, let it spur his anger and pride. When he looked at it he thought of Sam, of Revere, of Kelly, of the Seider boy and the blood on all their hands. It meant something to him. Something he couldn’t articulate to another or even rightly explain to himself._ _

__Giving it to Sam had been an impulse, the act of a desperate man, but once it was in Sam’s palm, John had not wanted it back. It meant nothing to Sam, certainly, but having it in Sam’s possession meant a great deal to John._ _

__John shook his head and stepped back to his door. “Keep it,” he said._ _

__Sam’s smile went still, his brow furrowing. “Hancock.”_ _

__John had no desire for an argument, he’d debased himself more than enough for one day. He nodded at Sam firmly and said, “I’ll see you in the morning, Mr. Adams.”_ _

__He stepped into his room and closed the door before Sam could argue._ _

__The loss of his house had badly limited his possessions. Traipsing around Massachusetts and then several subsequent colonies had made the situation worse. But his limited wardrobe did not mean he would allow himself to grow slovenly or to present a less than adequate version of himself to the other congressional delegates. He was fastidious in his appearance and in that fastidiousness he knew many of the other delegates found a commonality._ _

__He set his clothes aside, and used the small water basin to wash himself. He’d only just donned his nightshirt when there was a soft knock at the door._ _

__John looked around for his pistol, grabbing his breeches in haste. He’d had enough of running this last year to find it instinct, even if Philadelphia should still be beyond Gage’s reach. He was about to don his clothes again when there was a second knock and an irritated voice whispering, “It’s Sam. Open up.”_ _

__Bewildered, John opened the door. “Mr. Adams?”_ _

__Sam pushed against the door and squeezed his way inside without asking._ _

__John stepped back and let him through without objection, closing the door once Sam was inside. Whatever Sam wanted to say it was clearly not a conversation meant for their hallmates. “Mr. Adams, I--”_ _

__Sam held up a hand sharply and John fell silent obligingly. Sam took a deep breath, as if composing himself, and then he said, “I’ve been pretty horrible to you.”_ _

__John balked at that. “I don’t think--”_ _

__Sam made a face and John fell silent again. Just because John wished to object didn’t make it untrue._ _

__“And despite my poor behavior you conceded to my demands, and you followed me up and down the colonies. You went to Barrett’s farm and then to the house in Lexington with me without question.” Sam was counting off his points by folding his fingers one by one, a clear, concrete show of acknowledgement. “You paid for weapons, and horses, and rooms, and even saddlebags without complaint. You helped in any manner I asked of you. Hell, you even shot a man to protect me. And you argue with me as if my decisions truly matter to you, for more reasons than just the Congress.” Sam took a deep breath and looked John straight in the eye. “Tell me, John, am I misreading you?”_ _

__John’s stomach dropped and he said nothing. His throat went tight, his face burning, and where an hour before he’d been caught up in a tentative joy, now he was falling into a sort of horrified fear._ _

__He’d been careful, always. Never allowing himself to act on any feelings he harbored, always remaining above the board in his interactions. His predilections were a secret he kept close to his chest, allowing that he was something of a dandy but never anything more than that. To have that fiction disappear…._ _

__He wasn’t sure what to say, how to maintain his composure when so exposed. So he embraced the proud anger bubbling in him, tipping his chin up, and fisting his hands as he met Sam’s eyes. He was loyal to their cause and he refused to let Sam’s suspicions ruin his hard work._ _

__“I have no intentions on your person, Mr. Adams,” he said stiffly, clinging well to his pride even in his nightshirt._ _

__Sam shifted his weight from foot to foot, looking awkward and not… not unkind. He favored John with a half smile, a small little shrug, and a game step forward. “Don’t you?” he asked, sounding… disappointed?_ _

__“Mr. Adams?” John asked, out of habit. The anger was gone with Sam’s kind tone, but the confusion still roared in him. Sam’s smile, the wicked gleam in his eyes, it made his skin prickle, made him a little ill with unaccustomed hope._ _

__Sam grinned full out then, stepping into John’s space, crowding him against the small dresser. “My cousin’s shouted me down before, like you did today, and I never listened. Paul and Kelly too. But you? I listened to you.”_ _

__“You rode away, Sam,” John pointed out because it did need to be said._ _

__Sam settled his hands on the dresser on either side of John’s hips, boxing him in. “I came back,” Sam said._ _

__“You did,” John agreed quietly. Sam was close enough that John could feel his warmth, the brush of his arms through the thin shirt John wore. He’d never been more aware of another person, of how near they were, of every breath they took._ _

__Sam seemed to hesitate for a moment, but before John could ask, Sam closed the gap and kissed him._ _

__John didn't return the kiss immediately. The shock was just too great. But Sam was undeterred, pressing his body against John's and coaxing his mouth open. At that, John finally closed his eyes and allowed himself to be led._ _

__Sam kissed with aggression and fervor, taking charge the way he was wont to do in all things. John didn’t mind in the slightest, found himself smiling at the way Sam seemed to chase every movement he made, coaxing him to stay locked together. As if it were dance or perhaps a debate._ _

__John found himself answering in kind, curling himself to Sam, sliding his arms around Sam’s shoulders, pulling him closer. Sam made a happy sound at that, pulling a hand away from the desk to rest on John’s side. Sam’s hand was warm through the thin layer of his nightshirt and it reminded John how very undressed he was in comparison to Sam._ _

__Sam’s other hand settled low on John’s back, pulling John closer at the groin and John stopped caring particularly about what clothes either of them had on. John rocked against Sam, matching Sam’s fervor with his own, kissing Sam hard until he felt breathless and lightheaded._ _

__Sam turned his head to gasp for air, laughing lowly. “I thought you would-- but I wasn’t sure.”_ _

__John’s couldn’t help but laugh too, as he pulled his arms down and struggled to regain his breath. “You seemed _very_ sure.”_ _

__Sam grinned at him and shrugged. “Haven’t you noticed I’m a little foolhardy?”_ _

__Foolhardy was definitely a good word for it. But so were selfless and brave._ _

__Sam made a fist in John’s nightshirt, knuckles pressed against John’s hip. “And determined. We Adams men are famous for our determination.”_ _

__“Are you?” John asked, breathless now in anticipation._ _

__Sam nodded with a feigned gravitas, his eyes sparkling with mirth. “Oh yes, John. It’s known from Boston to Philadelphia.”_ _

__“And what are you so determined about?” John asked, settling a hand over Sam’s._ _

__“Me?” Sam asked. He leaned in close, mouth almost covering John’s again. “I’m determined to have you. If you’re willing to have me, that is.”_ _

__The offer made John’s heart race, not that he was surprised, how could he be with Sam pressed so close that his arousal was obvious. But to have Sam voice it, to have it in the air between them... John felt thrilled and terrified all at once._ _

__“Are you sure that’s wise?” he asked, despite himself._ _

__“Wise?” Sam asked, shaking his head. “Probably not. I’m not really too good at being wise. But I don’t much care. I’ve been thinking about this, about you, too damn long.”_ _

__That wasn’t an answer John had expected at all. “Oh,” he blurted out, surprised and stupidly pleased._ _

__Sam made an annoyed face, almost bashful really, saying, “You can be wise for us both, if you need to be, but I really hope you won’t.”_ _

__“I will endeavor to leave all wisdom--”_ _

__Sam cut him off with another kiss,this one short and sweet, leaving John desperately wanting._ _

__“It’s okay, I know you can’t help yourself,” Sam said._ _

__“Apparently not,” John muttered._ _

__“I could court you if you really want. Bring flowers and poorly written poems.” Sam slid a hand down John’s side to his hip and then lower to the hem of his nightshirt. “I’m shit at wooing, I really am, but if that’s what you want, I’ll do it.”_ _

__“You’d woo me for a tumble?” John said with a gasp as Sam’s fingers tickled along his thigh, inching his nightshirt up._ _

__Sam had been watching John’s nightshirt with interest and he looked up at that, his eyebrows raised. “No,” he shook his head and looked at John like he was quite the idiot._ _

__John hesitated to say anything, feeling confident that anything he chose to say would not improve Sam’s response._ _

__Sam rolled his eyes and kissed John again, cupping John’s face with his free hand, holding him close. When Sam pulled back he said, with fond amusement, “I wouldn’t woo you just for a tumble, John.”_ _

__“Oh,” John said, feeling quite the idiot._ _

__“Oh,” Sam parroted, with a smug grin._ _

__“I see.” John smiled, despite Sam’s smugness._ _

__“Good.” Sam raised his eyebrows with clear delight. “Then you’ll forgo wisdom and have me?”_ _

__“I believe I will, sir,” John agreed, still smiling without reserve. “Provided you consent to a state of dress similar to my own.”_ _

__Sam considered this, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes before conceding, “That could probably be arranged.”_ _

__John waited a moment but when Sam didn’t move John was forced to say, “Do arrange it, if you would.”_ _

__Sam blinked, confusion obvious, and then he abruptly understood, shrugging off his jacket and dropping it to the floor. “You move fast,” Sam said in obvious appreciation._ _

__John reached out and began undoing the buttons on Sam’s vest. “You may not have noticed, my good sir, but there is a war on.”_ _

__“Finally caught on, did you?” Sam laughed, catching John’s hands with his own and stopping so he could kiss John again._ _

__John ignored the comment, biting Sam’s lower lip in retaliation. Sam laughed again at that, his eyes half closed with mirth, and he was tugging John’s hair out of its ribbon, throwing the ribbon aside while John finished unbuttoning the vest Sam wore._ _

__“I’m glad you stopped wearing the wig,” Sam said, kissing along John’s jaw and then his ear, nose pressing against John’s hair._ _

__“It wouldn’t have survived a day at Barrett’s farm.” John rolled his eyes._ _

__“Aw,” Sam sighed, “but it would have been excellent for target practice. Stick it on a red painted pole and it’s a perfect likeness for Gage.”_ _

__“It was not at all of the same design,” John muttered._ _

__“You don’t know that,” Sam replied smartly. “He might be wearing one of your wigs right now. I’m assuming you left them behind?”_ _

__“Wonderful.”John rolled his eyes but he didn’t disagree. It was no less horrifying a thought than many others he’d had about Gage’s occupation in his house._ _

__Sam ran a hand through John’s hair and then brought it down, settled on John’s chest, where his nightshirt was open and bare skin was easily found. “You stopped wearing the wig and then you stopped wearing cravats, and then vests. Just breeches and a shirt half the time. It drove me crazy.”_ _

__“You hid that quite well,” John said._ _

__Sam shook his head. “Not really. Paul kept threatening to shoot me in the ass if I didn’t do something about it. I wouldn’t be surprised if the house in Lexington was an elaborate set up.”_ _

__The idea of Paul knowing Sam’s inclinations, let alone encouraging them, was astounding. But then John had been privy to very little in the beginning, beyond what was required from his coin purse._ _

__“I almost made a move then,” Sam said, pulling back to shrug off his coat and open vest and pull off his boots._ _

__“What stopped you?” John asked, just letting himself watch as Sam made short work of his breeches._ _

__“‘The redcoats are coming, the redcoats are coming!’” Sam parroted Paul’s warning from that day. “And wouldn’t that have been embarrassing, Gage’s men finding us-- like this.” Sam kicked his breeches away so he was now in just his shirt which hung down to mid thigh._ _

__“It would have been most regrettable,” John agreed, staring unabashedly._ _

__Sam caught John’s stare and grinned. “Might have been worth it,” he said. And then he tugged his shirt over his head._ _

__As John had long suspected, Sam was very well formed. Trim at the waist but well muscled all along his torso. His legs were lean but defined, his ankles well turned. There was not a part of him John did not admire._ _

__Sam tugged at the hem of John’s nightshirt and John let him pull it up over his head. John knew he himself was not quite so trim, but he was leaner than he had been before he’d fallen in with Sam, his arms and shoulders stronger from all their work. And though he was without the artifices he might have employed for an assignation in his own house, John did not feel ashamed. Especially not with the way Sam looked at him, eyes dark and greedy._ _

__“Do you have anything?” Sam asked, locking his hands on John’s waist and walking him back to the bed._ _

__“Ah, no?” John admitted with reluctance. He’d had no reason to be prepared and had been hoarding his little money for food and not for any hand salves that might do._ _

__“Okay,” Sam said, not at all deterred. “Remind me to steal something from Franklin’s tomorrow.”_ _

__John winced, trying to rid the image of Franklin from his mind. “Absolutely not. And please don’t mention it again.”_ _

__Sam laughed, pushing John down on the bed. “I’ll figure something out. Don’t worry about it.”_ _

__John resolved firmly not to and meant to tell Sam so but was distracted by Sam climbing onto the bed after him. Sam straddled him and pushed John down by the shoulders, following after so he could kiss John, wet and open mouthed. John groaned in pleased surprise, sliding his hands up Sam’s back, tracing the smooth skin and corded muscle. Sam smiled against his mouth, his own hands skating down John’s chest to the ticklish skin of his belly. John huffed a laugh into Sam’s mouth and Sam looked delighted._ _

__“Ticklish?” Sam asked, fingertips lightly digging into John’s sides._ _

__“No,” John ordered, grabbing at Sam’s hands. Sam let John pull his hands away, turning his palms so they met John’s and threaded their fingers together._ _

__“Any other objections?” Sam asked, rocking against John, setting his nerves on fire._ _

__“What?” John asked breathlessly, mind too full of options._ _

__Sam smiled, bringing his hands up so he could kiss John’s knuckles. “Nothing?”_ _

__“Sam,” John said, unsure of what to say next._ _

__Sam sighed, looking all too pleased with himself as he let John’s hands go. He kissed John, a slow languid roll of tongue and lips, pulling back to promise, “Tomorrow, I will have all of you. You’ll feel me for days. But tonight…”_ _

__Sam pulled away and slowly slid down the bed, pressing kisses to John’s skin as he went, making marks along John’s ribs, fingers pinching and tickling._ _

__“Sam?” John asked, bracing himself on his elbows to watch Sam._ _

__Sam looked up as he kissed John’s hipbone. He smiled lasciviously and John’s words were trapped in his throat along with his breath. He didn’t believe that Sam really intended to--_ _

__Sam took him in hand and licked him from base to tip._ _

__John had to bite down on his hand to keep quiet._ _

__Sam chuckled and then bent to his task with abandon. He swirled his tongue over the head and then sank down until his lips met his fist. He built up a fast pace, a rolling rhythm that had John clutching the bed sheets and whispering praise in a strangled voice. Of all the ways he had imagined Sam taking his pleasure, this hadn’t been one and he felt ill prepared and already on a knife’s edge._ _

__Sam made soft encouraging sounds, like he was enjoying himself, enjoying the taste and weight of John on his tongue. Which was beyond John’s wildest expectations. His skin felt like fire under Sam’s hands, thrumming with energy at every touch, every slide of lips._ _

__The thrumming built and built until John was near senseless with it. “Sam,” John pulled at his hair in warning. “Sam--”_ _

__Sam pushed on John’s hips, holding him down, and swallowed him deeper._ _

__John gasped, seeing white, and only just bit his arm to muffle his shout as he came._ _

__When John came back to himself, Sam had already moved back up, sitting on John’s thighs and fisting himself. John propped himself up on one elbow and reached out a hand to join Sam’s. Sam sighed and inched forward into John’s grip. “Harder,” he urged, pulling his own hand away._ _

__John tightened his grip, pulling awkwardly until he got his wrist angled right and managed a steady pace. Sam let out soft little sighs, thrusting lazily into John’s fist. He murmured endearments and encouragements, bending so he could catch John’s mouth in one messy kiss after another._ _

__Sam seemed to like it rough and fast. John was clumsy at it, but it didn’t seem to matter. Sam was already too worked up, groaning into John’s mouth, his arms shaking from holding his weight._ _

__He came with a long, low groan, spilling onto John’s fist and stomach. John kept his hand moving until Sam’s thrusts petered off, and he slumped down onto John, trapping John’s hand between them._ _

__John ran his free hand down Sam’s flank, enjoying Sam’s weight, his warm, wet breath against John’s neck._ _

__Eventually Sam rolled over with a sigh. John braced himself up on an elbow, thinking to deal with the mess, but Sam let out an even louder sigh and pushed John back down before climbing off the bed. He returned with John’s washcloth, damp from the water basin, and wiped them both down. He tossed it back and it landed perfectly on the table next to the basin. Sam climbed back into the bed, pulling the covers up around them. He settled down, pillowing his head on John’s shoulder. John closed his eyes sleepily, content for the first time in a good long while._ _

__“You sure you don’t want the coin back?” Sam asked, turning to lay an arm across John’s stomach, fingers curling about his hip._ _

__John smiled, shaking his head. “Would you mind terribly holding onto it for me?”_ _

__There was a beat and then Sam pressed a dry kiss to John’s collarbone, promising, “I’ll keep it safe.”_ _


End file.
